


I'm Coming To You

by Theyna_Shipper



Series: Star Wars One-Shots [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Force Bond (Star Wars), Keanu Reeves takes a ten second pause to answer a question, May The Fourth Be With You, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, POV Ben Solo, POV Rey (Star Wars), Rey Needs A Hug, Soft Ben Solo, Soft everyone really, Softness, The Force Ships It, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theyna_Shipper/pseuds/Theyna_Shipper
Summary: "Give me your coordinates; I'm coming to you," she demandsHis eyes jump to her face.~~~~~~~~Just some Force Bond softness between our favorite pair that could potentially have occurred between in TLJ. Happy Star Wars Day and May the Fourth Be With You!
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Star Wars One-Shots [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1637683
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	I'm Coming To You

**Author's Note:**

> Of course I had to write soft Reylo on Star Wars day, what kind of person do you think I am? 
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <3

Rey doesn’t necessarily consciously initiate the bond, but it most certainly rises out of a desire to see him. A need to, before she continues with what is possibly the best or the worst plan she has ever had. 

He is not the sensitive, nervous, kind Ben Solo she saw the night before, at least not on the outside. He is the powerful and demanding Kylo Ren, haughty and proud. But still, he looks at Rey with some small flicker of emotion in eyes that betrays him. He exhales slightly. “You’re safe.”

She crosses her arms. “Of course I am. Why would you-?”

“The last time my uncle saw a connection to the dark side...” He lets the sentence finish itself. 

“Oh. Right,” Rey says awkwardly. 

He looks at her for a moment, studying her form. She is dressed for a journey, her clothes new and of a darker, sturdier material. 

“You’re not on the island anymore,” he remarks, with a weak attempt at being casual. 

“I thought you couldn’t see my surroundings?”

He shakes his head. “But I can tell- I felt when it was raining for you. The air feels- different.”

Rey wonders what that means for a moment. Stepping off the stale Falcon to the cool, salty, slightly damp air of Ach-To had been both a startling and refreshing transition. Perhaps it is something like that- some of the salty coolness of Ach-To, or their warm staleness of the Falcon radiating off her, contrasting the air of whatever ship he is on, clinging to her across time and space. 

But how _the smell of air_ defies the laws of physics is not what she wants to know, and she cuts to the chase. “Give me your coordinates; I’m coming to you,” she demands. 

His eyes jump to her face. “What?”

Not _for_ you. _To_ you. She will come to help him, or stand by him, or whatever she thinks this would be. Something they barely could have pictured weeks ago. 

“I’m coming to you,” she repeats “And I can’t find you by myself.”

The scholar in him still wonders how this works- how they see each other across thousands of lightyears of dead space, but not their surroundings. How they seem to occupy each others’ environment yet somehow not affect it. The space around them never mattered when they were connected- it was just them, nothing else in the galaxy. Or at least that’s how it feels to him. 

He avoids her gaze. “This is not going to go the way you think.”

That is the same thing Luke said to her. The two men are more alike than they would care to believe. One of their biggest weaknesses, Rey is certain. 

She will not give up this easily, will not let him avert his eyes and dismiss her. “Do you trust me?”

His lip twitches slightly, not quite a smile. Because it’s absurd, for two enemies battling across the stars to demand each other’s trust. Rey demands it nonetheless. “Should I?”

And how could they _touch_ , like the physical distance was nothing to the Force? Like she was sitting right there with him in his quarters? It was no illusion, no trick of the light; he felt her fingertips brush gently against his before-

“Perhaps not. But do you?” Rey demands. She will not give this up easily. The scavenger, defending her turf, her haul, whatever small possessions she has- that girl is not buried far beneath the surface, still. And she still fiercely defends, still fiercely _demands_ what she wants. It is, to him, both fascinating and endearing. 

“I don’t know.” Not something he often admits, but the truth. He has only ever told her the truth; he will only ever tell her the truth. 

Rey wonders if she could reach out to touch him again, like she did last night. Or was that a product of their burning need for each other, the bridge between them strengthened by their passion? They didn’t have enough time, barely touching before Luke tore them apart. Now the desire lingers- to run her hands along his face, his hair, perhaps to trace them along the jagged running down his cheek…

But she is letting herself get distracted. She takes a step closer to him, bridging the gap slightly but leaving him plenty of space. “Please. Let me come to you.”

He takes a deep breath, almost a full ten seconds before he answers. “Are you absolutely certain?”

Her resolve is almost frightening, and too intense to make her a possession of the light side entirely. There is something vaguely selfish, entirely passionate, and yet still compassionate about her. 

He hands her a small navigational chip that she will be able to plug into most ships and transport pods. “This will bring you to me. Please be careful.”

She takes it delicately, watching the object pass between their hands and across so many millions of stars. It is like they hold all space between their outstretched hands- an intoxicating feeling of power and control that only his connection with Rey can give him. A sense of _belonging_ , with her and as her equal. Perhaps, if she comes…

Rey watches in surprise as he accepts her silent offer to bridge the distance between. He is so close, she can see his eyelashes. Her breath hitches slightly in her throat. He reaches up and towards her a little, extending a silent invitation of his own. 

Rey accepts it, laces her fingers into his as they hold their hands silently next to their heads. There is an electric charge, an amount of dense and explosive energy so narrowly held in balance between them, threatening to shatter at any moment. But she tests the energy further, nervously, hungrily, stepping forward until their foreheads are touching. 

Rey closes her eyes, reverently just, before he does, and he loses himself to the energy flowing between them, like a tornado of many-colored lights catching them and carrying him along. His breath grows shallow in his chest; his hand not clasped in Rey’s begin to tremble. 

His head feels like it is going to burst, yet he doesn’t want to let go. Something feels right, inevitable, almost holy about this. 

Her breath tickles his face, in a moment of human contact he has not had since- since god knows when. 

“Rey,” he breathes softly against her face, shattering the tension-filled silence and arresting all her senses. Now she knows what he means about air- she can feel it, different and fresh, rolling slowly off him, warm and sweet and pristine. 

This is dangerous, and new, and scary, and powerful, and she wants all of it, and more.

The explosive energy in their palms begins to swell like a dying star as their eyes flicker open and take in each other’s stunned and blissful countenances. He shatters to dust in her hand, fading back into space and ending their brief defiance of it. 

She reaches slowly for the coordinate chip he gave her, that had flown impossibly far in a mere flick of their hands; holds it reverently to her lips and breathes softly against it- this, the key that will bring her to Ben Solo, and hope, and the Force. 

_“Ben,”_ she whispers into her palm, hoping beyond hope that across the vast fabric of stars, her call somehow reaches him.

He feels it again. The pull to the light.

**Author's Note:**

> I think a lot of people in the comments think I'm a straight girl who wants a guy who treats me the way I write Ben treating Rey, when actually I'm a very gay girl who wants to treat a girl the way I write Ben treating Rey. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Stay safe and healthy!


End file.
